Of Thorns and Beauty by Elle Madison
Chapter Fifty-Three
“Ishould get you two some lunch.” Einar stands up.
His excuse is feeble. There are plenty of people who could help with that, but I don’t fault him for needing a moment to collect himself. When he’s gone, Sigrid stares at the doorway and sighs.
“He is have too much pain for someone so young.” She squeezes my hand that still rests within hers. “When his family passed, he was still just a boy. I sit with him every night while he grieved them, while he wish he passed, too. I sing his móðir’s lullabies to him, so he could find sleep.”
I hate the part of me that asks her for the rest of the story. I don’t deserve to know something so personal about him, but I can’t help myself when the question bubbles from my lips.
“What happened to them?”
“Einar was very sick. He had the rashes and fevers and he need isolation. His family went for ride to visit mountain villages. There was avalanche.” She pauses to cough. “They never come home. The dogs find them buried in snow weeks later.”
Again, my heart fractures and breaks apart in this very room. The fear he had when he found me alive after falling down the mountain. The way he is so reverent of the peaks, his caution. It isn’t just respect for nature that made him that way. It is also that he has seen firsthand what the mountains can claim for themselves at any moment.
And I had selfishly followed him, triggering one of his worst fears.
“What are you think, child?” Sigrid pulls me from my thoughts, her face carefully examining everything she sees on mine.
I’m too tired to hide my feelings at the moment, too tired of death and loss and pain. So, I give her a truth.
“I was thinking about how sad I am for him. For all of you. I know what it is like to lose family...” I hesitate about how much I want to give away before settling on the loss I feel most keenly. “My sister died very young.” It is a struggle to keep the emotion from my voice. “I used to sing to her, too.”
Sigrid’s head tilts to the side, her eyes softening. But when she opens her mouth, what she asks isn’t at all what I was expecting.
“Would you give this song to me?”
I startle and feel the heat rise to my cheeks.
“I haven’t sung in ages.” I attempt to dodge her request, not sure if I am capable of singing Rose’s lullaby after so long.
“Please?” she asks again, and I freeze.
I deserve to relive the pain of losing my sister. I deserve to now associate it with the pain I have suffered and inflicted here.
So, I take a steadying breath and close my eyes and listen to the melody in my head from so long ago. My father holds a sitar, his fingers strumming and plucking my mother’s, my true mother’s, favorite song. And it’s her voice I hear when I open my mouth to echo the words.
The lyrics speak of the love of a man and how it makes this woman whole. They run away in the night and are married by dawn. She needs him like the ocean needs the moon, and he needs her like the desert needs rain. Their love is limitless, all-powerful, and complete.
As the lullaby continues, their love creates a child. This child fills them with so much joy they nearly burst. In spite of the storms around them and the terrible creatures that want to steal the child away, the parents’ love protects it and keeps it safe from all harm.
Each note and every word remind me of how much I wish love was capable of such a thing.
I see Rose’s limp body. I remember being terrified when strange hands pulled me from my parents’ sides in the marketplace. I think of Aika and Melodi and every reason that I have to do my part to protect them, because no one did that for me.
By the time I sing the final note, I open my eyes, but my vision is blurry. I reach a hand up to rub them, and my fingers come away wet. I’m not sure how long I’ve been crying, but the tears I’ve shed are reflected on Sigrid’s face as well.
She says nothing as she gently pulls me closer to her, wrapping her arms around me, and it’s all I can do to pull myself away.
When I sit up, I see Sigrid’s sad eyes fixed on something behind me.
Einar has returned. He’s holding a tray of food, but his gaze is utterly transfixed on me. I don’t ask how long he’s been standing there. I don’t need to. It was long enough, regardless.
I finish wiping my face, and he silently approaches, resting the food on the middle of the bed. I feel far more vulnerable now than I ever have before. I would rather be naked in a room full of strangers than face the way my soul feels so exposed in this moment.
Einar helps Sigrid with the bowl of stew he’s brought up for her while I silently pick at the bread and cheese.
“Thank you, Ùlfur,” she says after a few bites, her eyes flitting back and forth between the two of us. “But I am so tired now. Please, let me rest. You two finish your meal together.”
Her hand grasps mine, tugging it gently, and I follow her lead by leaning in to hug her again.
“Thank you,” she whispers in the common tongue.
I smile, but the gesture feels empty. Just like everything else about me.